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#i think it's because i've been watching doctor who again
regical52 · 1 day
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Y'all the fuckin yt short abt the new 'Quality Time' feature has me on the ground. The background music I, I can't take it seriously oh my fucking god the comments saying they thought it was fan made are so real because sweet jesus look at him.
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There is not a single thought in this man's head.
Also is it appropriate to slouch like that when ur doing cardio? I mean ik your legs are still moving but a part of me feels like u should try to keep ur back straight? Then again what do I know, I've lived on god's green earth for 20 years and only once have I been to a gym and all I did was walk on an inclined treadmill for half an hour.
My gym habits (or lack thereof) aside, good on them for making use of their character models and hey if that inspires you to actually work out more then all the power to you.
Judging from the trailer I think we're also getting new outfits for them so that's something to look forward to.
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I know I'm focusing on the wrong thing but I did not know of the existence of compression shirts until I saw this man and went 'why tf is he wearing a rash guard at the gym' but apparently after a quick google search this thing is like, kinda fancy? Like it's form fitting right? So it's supposed to increase circulation so your muscles can get more oxygen and better absorb sweat. (I don't know, it still seems hella stuffy)
It's so weird imagining Zayne at the gym. I mean we all know this man is built like a semi truck but he's also a doctor?? Imagine going to the gym and you see the cardiac surgeon that operated on your grandma two days ago pumping iron. God bless the self esteem of the people who go to the same gym as him (or maybe Akso has a gym idk).
Um for a more normal point of focus, it probably won't happen but imagine if u can change which outfit they work out in. Change it to the towel ones and you can watch Zayne's back muscle movements as he does pull-ups.
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gingerbreadmonsters · 2 years
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for the love of god THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE FLUFF WHY AM I CRYING
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crownspeaksblog · 1 year
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The first suranne jones role I've ever seen was in doctor who. She played a woman who had the consciousness of the tardis put in her and the way she played that role was fantastic.
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The entire episode she and doctor were bickering like an old married couple. They've known eachother for hundreds of years and first thing they do when they get to talk to eachother is bicker and it was so fun to watch!
At the end when she says how she's looking for word, a big, complicated word but so sad... alive, I'm alive.. or when she's like there's something i didn't get to say.. hello, hello doctor. It's so very, very nice to met you.
i cried the first time i watched it and i cry every time i think about it.
How awesome would it be if one day the doctor chose the face that the tardis had and we just have suranne jones play the doctor.. i want it so bad.
The doctors wife is probably one of if not my favorite doctor who episode.. i mean come on the episode was written by niel gaiman, the episode had suranne jones and Michael sheen in it and we got the iconic 11th doctor scene of "fear me I've killed hundreds of time lords".. "fear me I've killed all of them" and another line i love is "you took her from her home and now she's back in the box again"... i just can't..
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aro-aizawa · 2 years
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i hate that when i have such a passionate belief of an aro headcanon, i viscerally hate anything that insinuates otherwise. even if i force myself to tolerate it, i’m never going to be 100% okay with whatever contradicts it and it’s so hard to let go of that hate.
#shut up danni#i mean. my url probs speaks volumes lmao but in this case it's not that#im rewatching doctor who bc i need to get caught up again i've p much missed all of 13 except the beginning#so i decided that i'd start from clara to ease into 12 but i forgot that my mortal enemy river song is in that season finale rip#bc i v passionately believe that the doctor is generally aromantic#like there are a few exceptions to the rule like ten was deffo demiro#and i don't think i know anything about classic who to give my opinion on them but i might go back and watch them#i've been meaning to but i'm worried it'd be too different to what i'm used to and i won't like it#which is a shame bc i've grown up w doctor who i don't wanna dislike anything abt it#anyways back to my point - the doctor is deffo aro#and bc of that i hate river song w a passion and i don't like hating characters it makes me sad#maybe its because literally all of the episodes besides her debut episodes focus all on her#and why she's SO important and amazing#and SHE'S the only one worthy of marrying the doctor#urgh#if anything i think that sure she might be 12's wife but none of the others#look they can't have it both ways in that every doctor is the exact same in romantic/sexual orientation#but also say that every doctor is different and every incarnation is different in personality#anyways river song makes me sad and i wish she didn't exist but i hope that she stays forever gone#her last episode was a good ending for her and i hope i never see her again
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heich0e · 4 days
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"are you like... into that?"
you tear your eyes away from the screen a few seconds after rintarou says it, too rapt by what's unfolding in the movie scene to look away too soon.
"what do you mean?" you ask, glancing over to the other end of the sofa where he's seated. he's slumped down in the corner of the sofa, nestled right into the valley between the cushions where he always sits—which has resulted in a permanent sort of vaguely rintarou-shaped indentation that you hide using throw pillows when company comes over.
he's watching you very intently from his side of the sofa, too intently almost. you'd thought you'd felt his eyes on you while you were watching the movie, but you aren't exactly sure how long he's been staring, and now it leaves you wondering what exactly he's up to.
rintarou nods towards the television on the other side of the room, you look back at the screen once more and see the male lead still at the centre of the scene. he'd just gotten into a fight—shirtless, glistening with perspiration, and a strangely erotic trickle of blood trailing down his philtrum. you swallow a little as you become engrossed in the movie again, forgetting momentarily that you were ever asked a question at all.
"so?"
your eyes snap back to rintarou—who's still focused only on you, but with a slightly more disapproving look this time.
"what?" you ask him, a bit huffily. you're still not even sure what he'd been asking you in the first place.
"you've been ogling that guy since he got the shit kicked out of him," rintarou says pointedly, lifting a hand and gesturing towards the television. "you into that or something?"
there's something kind of accusatory in his tone.
"wha—hu—no," you stumble over your words in your haste to defend yourself. "i've told you i'm not into hardcore stuff. and that would constitute like... doctorate level BDSM."
rintarou's lips purse slightly. "do you think that guy's hot?"
"i mean... yeah," you answer after contemplating it for a moment. "i didn't really think so before but he's kinda sexy in this scene."
"he just got the shit kicked out of him," the boy at the other end of the sofa responds flatly.
"so you've pointed out," you answer. you turn back to the screen, watching as the battered male lead winds a roll of bandages around his ribs, then drags his knuckles roughly across his lips to clear away some of the blood that clings to them. your tongue peeks out to moisten your own unconsciously. "don't you think there's something kind of hot about a guy with a bit of blood on him?"
"is this a trick question?"
you look back at rintarou again, and find him still fixated on you rather than the film. he's pouting a bit, and it kind of makes you want to laugh. instead, you push yourself up from your own little nest at the opposite end of the sofa, crawling down towards him.
"rintarou, are you jealous because i called the bloody guy sexy?" you ask him as you pause at his side, resting back on your haunches.
he nibbles on the inside of his cheek—a habit he's had as long as you've known him—and for the first time in possibly the entire 54 minutes this movie has been playing, he averts his eyes from you.
"...no."
you do laugh then, swinging one leg over his lap to perch yourself atop him.
"you're being silly," you say to him as you balance yourself with your hands on his shoulders. his own come slithering up to settle at your waist, and his grip is a little tighter than you expect. he's still sulking though, refusing to look at you.
there's a loud crash in the film playing on the screen behind you, but you don't turn to look at it—you doubt that would help the situation at hand very much.
"rin," you coax him, making your voice as sweet as possible.
he doesn't look at you, but he does seem to bite the inside of his cheek a little harder now.
you dip down close to him, your mouth hovering over his and your eyes level. "rin-ta-rou."
he finally looks at you, his lips parting in surprise at your sudden nearness. you're so close that your mouths brush slightly thanks to that subtle movement, and he leans into the warmth of your lips to kiss you properly after getting such a small taste of it.
rintarou pulls away after one long, deep kiss, slouching back into the sofa again—but this time pulling you down with him into his little him-shaped indentation—holding you tightly to his chest as he gets you both comfortable. you let him maneuver you however he wants to, placating him with your docility to make him feel better, and keeping any comment about his jealousy to yourself—at least for now.
the two of you eventually find a comfortable way to rest, entwined together on his end of the sofa but both with a clear view to the screen to resume your spectating of the movie.
"what's so hot about a guy with a nosebleed anyway? i used to get them all the time when i was a kid," rintarou mumbles bitterly after a few moments, and you feel the words reverberate through his chest as you rest with your head upon it.
you laugh lightly, and your boyfriend's arms tighten around your waist.
he pipes up again after a few moments more pass in the film.
"you don't want me to start fighting or anything, do you?" he asks you skeptically.
you've effectively lost track of the movie's plot now, but you don't really care that much.
"no, rintarou, i don't want you to start fighting," you reply, patting his chest reassuringly. "you'd get your ass kicked anyway."
"well, apparently you're into that," he mutters.
"will you be quiet and just watch the movie, nosebleed boy?"
(a week later, rintarou sends you a photo from practice—having gracefully taken one of motoya's receives to the face—with an angry red welt on his cheek, blood dripping from his nose, and an obnoxious smirk on his lips. unfortunately, you are kinda into that.)
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aethelwyneleigh27 · 26 days
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Ex-husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley Drabble
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Hi lovelies! Lia here again, I've been quite busy with school so I hope you guys can be a little patient with content since I've been stuck on a slump and there's a lot of things I'm currently busy with at the moment because of school despite posting so much last week. Here's the weekly content and I hope you all enjoy :)
Also how do you all feel if I write works inspired by old gacha songs? And yes I used to be a gacha girly, it was some wild phase AHAHAHA
My CoD Masterlist
Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @simp4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thesnowurzikdjinn @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @the-second-sage @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld @keiva1000
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Brainrot, Ex-husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley who decided he wanted to get a divorce with you because things weren't working out between the both of you, so you had to share custody of your daughter.
You managed to get yourself together, having no time to grieve that part of you that he took with him because you had a little one depending on you. You loved that girl for all she was, however she brings you and Simon together.
Not that you resent her for it, god no, it wasn't her fault you and your husband couldn't see eye to eye.. that he refused to retire after everything, maybe it was just your paranoia getting to you. You couldn't stand the fear anymore, the fear of one day he's not the one you'll see when you open the front door but Price.
You forgot how difficult it was doing this on your own until now, you could barely get up, your head was actually killing you. You pushed through, making your daughter breakfast.
You felt like you were about to throw up, ears started to ring and everything else felt numb. The next thing you know was your eyes rolling back and everything going black, the last thing you heard was your toddler panicking, calling you over and over on the verge of crying.
All while you were unconscious, your little one runs to your room to look for your phone to call her dad.
"Listen I know we—" Simon said expecting you on the phone before getting cut off by his daughter..
"Dada! Momma's dead, dada. Momma's not breathing!" In a panic, she cried it out like a mantra. Simon was in a panic, he got up from where he was and was speeding towards what used to be your shared home.
The next thing you know, you were hearing the beeps of a heart monitor. All your senses were working, all except sight.. you didn't have enough energy to open them, in the coldness of your whole body from the well ventilated room, you felt warmth on your hand.
It was all too familiar, calloused but so gentle and warm. Simon.. it was Simon. All while processing this situation, all that's going through Simon's head are the what ifs.
"Fucking hell, help her.. My wife, she's been unconscious for thirty minutes. She's breathing but it's faint and she's burning" Simon almost yelled in a full panic, he was doing his best not to snap at the hospital staff but how couldn't he? Hadn't even realized that he called you something you weren't anymore, the title he took with him.
Your little one holding her dad's hand in the waiting room, she was observant, an emotionally intelligent little girl who holds her dad's hand. Simon keeps reminding himself to calm down, how much his bumblebee must be terrified, far more than he was so he takes her in his arms.
Sooner or later they were allowed to enter, doctor said you were stabilized and only collapsed from a horrid fever and so much fatigue. Thinking of losing you, just like that with no warning would be the second time Simon would lose you.
Now watching you unconscious, IV tube connected to you because of course you haven't been eating well either. It made him rethink everything, was it a mistake to give you those papers? Was it worth it losing the one person in his life who he would give his life for with no hesitation?
All he could do for now was sit next to you, no matter how long it takes for you to wake up because he doesn't have the strength to leave, maybe in a day or two but not now..
Part 2 anyone?
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neat-crows · 2 months
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So I've been re-watching dr who for the first time ever rn, with a friend who's never seen it before, so I'm seeing all these episodes for the first time since I was 13 and picking up on a LOT that I never noticed before, and holy shit the tenth doctor is SO WEIRD to Martha Jones, and nothing exemplifies that more than the sontaran stratagem/the poison sky.... like..... he is SO weird the whole way down.
When they first see each other again their introduction directly mirrors Jack and The Doctor's in Utopia
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"Doctor" "martha Jones" laugh and hug
"doctor" "captain Jack" laugh and hug
And then! they have a normal interaction!!! WIN he asks how her family is and how she is, and they're smiling and genuinely seem like friends very happy to see each other!
And then.... donna drops the fiance bomb.
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He turns with a look of.... almost anger? disbelief? and asks WHAT MAN?? Then martha explains who he is and the doctor....
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he looks? upset? and then like, resigned? AND THEN martha admits that her fiance is kind of similar to the doctor, and then donna asks "Is he skinny?" and his reactions
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is to make a face like "yeahh" AND START NODDING????? like he's taken Martha's admission to mean she's with a man that's just like him, and honestly seems a bit smug over it, and then when Martha says no-
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he looks so taken off guard and betrayed ??????????? BRO we are less than 5 minutes in..............
He then proceeds to be tetchy with her, and to be fair this is mostly because of her involvement with unit, and his discomfort with how militaristic she's gotten - which I think comes both from anger at himself for how he's changed her, and also discomfort that she's no longer "his" Martha, she's changed, and he doesn't know her as well anymore.
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he tells her off, he's snide and judgmental, he won't even look at her until she tells him to, and he's honestly bitchy - Until she explains herself, and tells him off for being so judgmental, i also think his line "oh so it's my fault" is very telling because..... it literally is? like yes, you put her in situations where she had to become harder and more used to violence......... and he KNOWS it. He's doing what he did all through series 3, which is feel guilty or bad and then take it out on Martha (that's for another post though) until she stands up for herself (get his ass!!) and then when she's finished she looks at him
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determined, but eyes darting back and forth waiting for his reaction, on some small level hoping for his approval
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and only THEN does he start to smile, and he tells her "that sounds more like Martha Jones." she's back to feeling like she's still his (to him, Martha is acting incredibly normal and platonic). The doctor has always had a weird possessiveness with Martha, going all the way back to their first episode where he hand picked her, and in this second of her looking for his approval, he feels that again, and he IMMEDIATELY started flirting again - please go watch the scene it boggles my mind how fast he switches.
I also want to be clear, Martha isn't flirting back, she's acting extremely normally. She's clearly taken the time away from him to get over, not only romantic feelings, but any anger as well. She seems to have come to terms with how she feels with everything that happened, and she loves and cares about him, but she's not naive to his faults - I also don't think she even picks up on him being weird to her in this scene. She's no longer in tune with his every mood swing, she's not here to fix him, or cater to his needs, and so she no longer notices these small moments from him.
AND THEN.... the clone.
He never flirts with the clone. The ONLY time, is the very first time they interact, before he's realized something is wrong.
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he calls her over to come with him, and his face is honestly way too close to hers. bro is a menace. but then, maybe 2 minutes later, he immediately clocks that this is not Martha.
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he realizes there has to be a spy and only has to consider for half a second before he turns and asks about her family, he's already realized she's acting a little off, and the second she answers he's 100% certain.
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and he gets MAD. he tells her Donna went home because she's not like her, she's not "a soldier" clearly a shot at the sontarans, but also another subtle test, the real Martha wouldn't let that slide, and he wouldn't say that to the real Martha. He continues saying Avanti, instead of Allonse-y, which is interesting, because he already knows. He's not doing this to confirm his suspicions, he's doing this as retaliation. To confirm to himself he knows Martha better than this fake, he's toying with her. BUT. He doesn't go to save Martha.
The next episode, the doctor's daughter, he refuses to accept the label of soldier, but Jenny rightfully points out that he strategizes like one And this is one such moment. He knows Martha is a clone, he's mad and upset, he could go save her right away, but he doesn't. He doesn't because it serves him best to allow her to keep shutting down the nuclear launch.
It reminds me a lot of when Cassandra possessed Rose in New Earth, he played a long for a little bit, but that was just to figure out what was happening. He IMMEDIATELY tried to fix it, I just wonder if it was any other companion if he would have done this. If it was Donna would he have left her for so long? even if it was strategic? it's this weird conflict the doctor has now that he's very very protective and a bit possessive, but he also treats her like an equal on the battlefield, and it's a weird... trust? he has in her to take care of herself.
I kind of don't want to call it trust because that sounds too positive, but I don't know another way to phrase it, but it's a forced independence and self sufficiency.
but then, he finally goes to save her
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He goes and cradles her face gently, and NOTABLY says "good, still alive" MEANING HE DIDN'T KNOW??? and still left her for that long...
but he holds her gently, and fully ignores the clone. He has his back to her, and then proceeds to taunt her. He tells her he clocked her right away because of the pupil size, thin hair, and he says she smells. but we know this isn't true.
Sure maybe those physical traits are true, but that's not how he figured it out, we saw how he did it, he clocked on because he knows Martha so well, but he can't admit that. He can't admit that he knows her just as much as she knows him, just like he couldn't tell Rose he loved her.
He is so deeply angry at this clone, he makes fun of her, he yells at her, he looks at her likes she's nothing
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This is his face when he kills her. He doesn't talk to her, or even TRY to save her. And we know she is alive, she has memories, and her own thoughts and feelings, and the doctor kills her while gloating because of his immense anger for hurting Martha. An anger that is also guilt.
he does not speak to her like a person (which directly leads into his treatment of Jenny in the next ep).
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Parallel that to how Martha treats her, they talk about their family and she even calls the clone Martha. She really is a doctor in a way ten tried and often failed at.
And then at the end, Donna asks Martha to come with them, and she says no, and that she's happy at home, but she's better for having traveled and come back.
And the doctor looks at her
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With an obvious sadness, but also acceptance. He clearly wants her here, with him, but I think he's finally come to accept that that'll never happen, and he needs to let her go.
Edit: I Like their dynamic(mostly) This is not an anti tenmartha post Him being a freak is compelling
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doctor who but i've never watched it
and so it begins again. the people asked for it. the people got it. i will ensure the people regret it.
i have never watched this show, or seen an edit, but i am a thorough researcher and i feel that i've got the essence of it.
this is what i have gathered. academicians worldwide take note.
Firstly, so I don't anger anyone, I accept and acknowledge that the tardis is blue and not yellow. My misinformation was from a Drarry fanfiction, and I had hitherto regarded Drarry fanfiction as the absolute truth.
There are doctors, and there are at least fifteen of them. At least two of them are David Tennant, which I can respect.
I'm not sure why the doctors are doctors, because I can find no trace of any medical procedure except for one doctor who licks things, which he learned from the previous doctor. If this is sufficient reason, I apologise for doubting their credentials.
On the other hand, if they are doctors thanks to a postdoctoral degree, this is also fine, though I have never seen anyone study anything. There is however a doctor, and there were people upset about her, but the fandom pointed out she set the tardis on fire, which is apparently a very doctor thing to do. Setting things on fire is absolutely something any research scholar would love, so again, apologies for doubting their credentials.
At least one doctor is gay. It is probably one of the David doctors, which checks out. He says someone, I think a dentist, is hot. I envy the maybe-dentist.
A t least one doctor is trans. I was unable to find them. But they exist. Oh yes, the fandom assures me they exist.
David Tennant as well as Ncuti Gatwa were fanboys, first of the show, and second of David Tennant, and thus they got into acting. Just a fun tidbit from me, since I am now the authority on this fandom.
There are time machines with which the doctors have sex by piloting them, which is questionable because the time machines are only partially sentient. I am not sure if the time machines are the tardis. But the tardis is blue, and not yellow, of that I am certain.
There was a stage play. Or maybe that was a metaphor for the production budget of the early seasons. I am not sure, but toddler David Tennant watched it. I assume no one took a 3 year old to a stage play, so through scientific deduction, it must have been a metaphor.
At some point, Death is an agony aunt and they have to spill secrets to it, or drown in a lake of human skulls. Who is this they? It's so obvious that the fandom sees no need to explain it, and neither do I. I do know it though. Of that you may remain certain.
A David doctor has a niece and she likes being his niece.
A David doctor has a best friend named Donna. He kisses her head. She supports his fruitiness. It is wholesome. It killed him when he lost her.
Slight tangent, but younger David doctor looks like Andrew Garfield. Current David in photos does give Ben Barnes energy. Any Wolfstar shippers, I believe you've found the Wolfstar kid. It is David Tennant.
A lot of people are David Tennant. A reliable Pinterest post on Doctor Who, clearly well researched, gave me the statistic that 15% of Doctor Who is David Tennant. From the amount of David Tennant that I ran across in my research, I don't understand it but I don't doubt it, either.
Speaking of Andrew Garfield, he in involved in this somehow. I am not sure how, but you cannot escape Andrew Garfield. He is even a part of fandoms he never acted in.
There is an individual named Catherine, I think she is the actress, but she could be a character. She seems to have much less knowledge about Doctor Who lore than I do. David Tennant finds it funny. Maybe he would find me funny, too.
The doctors installed some things in the tardis, from a wheelchair ramp to a jukebox. I don't know why a jukebox was needed. If I'm honest I don't know what a jukebox is. I don't know what the tardis is. But it is blue, and not yellow.
There is a French catchphrase.
Something happens in Wales. I don't know what it is, but something always seems to be happening in Wales in these fandoms, so I don't doubt it.
There is an old Doctor Who in a wheelchair, and he is happy to see a David doctor.
They go around in space, and do things. Who is this they? You and I both know the answer, so we needn't talk about it.
The show intro is "doo wee doo".
There is an alien who is not a mouse, the alien is The Meep, and uses the definite article as pronouns. David doctor is supportive of this, which is very good.
I found baby Yoda in the show, but apparently they call it a 'goblin' there, and someone doesn't like it.
There is a lot to do with time. There is a time hole, and things happen, and people die and are resurrected. There is danger, but it is fun.
They have CGI, and it is not good, which is the best thing about it. Who is they? Please stop asking me. It is rather obvious and something I definitely know.
Someone's boyfriend dies and the boyfriend is then resurrected but then gets lost with his boyfriend but then is reincarnated as a girl who would still call herself the someone's boyfriend but then she is replaced by the boyfriend but he's different now. I apologise for any errors that have crept it, but the tardis is blue and not yellow.
Someone named Martha is a doctor, and someone is very proud of her for it.
The eleventh and twelfth doctors like bow ties.
David Tennant wants to be ginger. David Tennant always gets what he wants. Who can refuse David Tennant? David Tennant is then ginger.
A David doctor gets a happy ending.
Someone yelled at Neil Gaiman about this. It was a mistake. He said that since it had already been done, he wouldn't want to give David's character a happy ending in S3, that would be a trifle unoriginal.
A lesson to be learned, Good Omens fandom, just a bit of advice from your son, do not yell at Neil Gaiman, it does not go well. Rumour has it he murdered the people who complained about him always wearing black. Of course, there is the fact that he doesn't exist, but that doesn't seem to have stopped him.
The doctors manifest in the previous doctor's clothes, which is apparently so last season. The tardis also manifests. I don't know where, or how. But it is blue, and not yellow.
I know, there was a lot of lore, so many of you thought I wouldn't be able to gather it all. But look how much research I did! I've got it better than maybe-actress-maybe-character Catherine, I'm sure :"]
Anyway, all the major plot points are covered above, so anyone who hasn't watched Doctor Who, feel free to refer to this and impress your Whovian friends with your knowledge! [not to be judgemental, but what a dreadfully Dr Seuss name, I rather like it]
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floralcyanidee · 7 months
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ᴛʀɪᴘʟᴇ ᴛʀᴏᴜʙʟᴇ
Bruce Wayne x Reader x Jonathan Crane (NSFW)
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When you notice Dr. Jonathan Crane watching you and your husband at a fundraising party, you get a little curious. When Dr. Crane angers you, he presses you to explore that anger. Will he regret it?
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warnings: smut, nipple play, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (both vaginal and anal), oral sex, cock warming, anal sex, anal fingering, blowjobs, dirty talk, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hair pulling, porn without much plot, masturbation, forced masturbation, threesome, male x male, male x female, male x male x female, cum swallowing, spitting, face sitting, face fucking, crying, sub/dom tones, dom!reader, sub!jonathan, kinda sub!bruce but not really, ya know, just pure filth
word count: 5254
author’s note: welcome to our one-way ticket to hell besties <3 I didn't proofread this because it just poured out of me and I was truly possessed by the writing demon today. I had an idea and literally ran with it. I don't think I've ever written something so filthy before lol please enjoy and give feedback!! READ THE WARNINGS this fic isn't for everyone tbh.
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MOODBOARD FOR THIS FIC
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One thing about being married to the Bruce Wayne was he had a thing for throwing parties and fundraisers at your mansion. This meant you had to dress up quite a bit, and you had to look really good as you were Bruce’s wife, of course. He always ensured you had the newest and most gorgeous gowns to show off at the gatherings. You’d spend the whole day getting your hair, makeup, and nails done, only to be at the parties for a few hours. And that was usually because Bruce had other duties in the city, he got too distracted by what you were wearing and needed you right then, or he simply let his antisocial side creep up on him. Tonight at the fundraiser he’s throwing, he seems content and has been by your side most of the night. Nothing drastic was going on in the city that demanded his action. But something was bothering him, you could tell. He’s slightly off, and you catch him staring at someone in the crowd a few times. You’re never able to pick them out, though. 
You and Bruce are by the champagne table, and you notice Bruce is gazing out into the crowd of partygoers again.
“Bruce?” you ask softly, putting a hand on his bicep, “You alright?”
Bruce blinks hard a few times before turning to you, “I’m fine, darling.”
“You sure? You seem distracted by something this evening,” you scan the room, but to no avail for whomever Bruce is focused on.
“I just thought I recognized someone,” Bruce says, sipping his drink.
“Hmm. Alright, then.”
“Have I told you that you look beautiful tonight?” Bruce smiles, letting a hand slide across the small of your back.
“Only about a thousand times,” you giggle, leaning into your husband.
You happen to look up, and that’s when you see him staring at the two of you. Dr. Jonathan Crane. He quickly averts his eyes away, but you have already caught him.
“Is it Dr. Crane that you recognize?” you ask Bruce, motioning to where he’s standing with some other rich psychologists.
“Yeah,” Bruce exhales, shrugging, “I thought he had left the city a while ago.”
“After the asylum got turned loose? I figured so, too. Oh well,” you say, looking up at Bruce, “If he’s here, then he’s donating, so maybe it’s not so bad.”
“You have a point,” Bruce raises his eyebrows, “I’m still keeping an eye on him, though.”
You knew of a few of the villains Bruce has come in contact with, including Jonathan. He had almost killed your best friend and sent the whole city insane. Who knows what would have happened to Gotham if it weren't for Bruce. But a part of you is curious about Jonathan- a deep, intellectual part of you. Why is he still here? Is he still a doctor? Your brain becomes dizzy with all the questions. If Jonathan is here acting casually on his own accord, you could, too. You tear away from Bruce without a word, drink in hand. Bruce calls after you, panic surging through him when he realizes where you’re headed.
“Dr. Crane,” you smile upon arriving in front of him and another psychologist, “Wonderful to see you here.”
“Ah, Mrs. Wayne. I wouldn’t miss a marvelous party for a good cause. Have you met Dr. Robin here?” Jonathan smiles back, not missing a single beat.
“I have not,” you look over to the tall woman in front of Jonathan, clad in a pantsuit. You reach out a hand for her to shake, “Y/N Wayne.”
“I know who you are, Mrs. Wayne,” Dr. Robin says politely, her Australian accent strong, “Your dress is quite lovely, I must say.”
“Thank you,” you reply with a smile, willing her to leave so you could speak with Jonathan alone. 
“Well, I’ll be off. Seems you two have something to discuss,” Dr. Robin announces her departure, much to your relief.
“It was nice meeting you,” you say sweetly as she walks away.
“You as well, Mrs. Wayne.”
You turn to Jonathan, who clears his throat as he looks you up and down. You’re nearly the same height as him, if not slightly taller, in your heels. 
“It’s really brave of you to be here, Dr. Crane,” you turn your head to the side, giving him a closed-lip smile.
“Please, call me Jonathan,” Jonathan responds, “And what would you mean by that?”
You take a step closer to him, leaning into his ear, “You know exactly what I’m talking about, Jonathan. Or should I say, Mr. Scarecrow.”
Jonathan doesn’t flinch. In fact, he grins at you as he exhales a laugh, “Those days are behind me, I’m afraid.”
“Uh-huh,” you cross your arms, “And why should I believe you?”
Jonathan glances behind you to look at Bruce, who is on edge and watching the entire conversation to ensure nothing is tried. A muscle in Jonathan’s jaw twitches, “You don’t have to. But if I were up to no good, why would I be in the presence of the Batman and his lover? Quite unintelligent, wouldn’t you think?”
“And why are you here, exactly?” 
“Trying to get myself back into the Gotham scene,” Jonathan looks at you matter-of-factly, “I’ve missed a lot being gone, you know.”
“Oh, I do know. And maybe you should’ve stayed gone,” you try not to snarl at him.
“Now, now, Mrs. Wayne. That is no way to speak to a donor,” Jonathan says, his voice dripping like honey with malice.
“You better be glad there are people around or-”
“Or what?” Jonathan asks, raising his eyebrows, a smirk itching at his lips.
“I’d fucking break you right here.”
“Sounds like a fun time. However, I’m not sure your husband would appreciate that in many, many ways.”
You scoff, “Don’t be crass. I’m not flirting with you. If I were, you’d know it.”
“There’s a fine line between desire and hatred, my dear,” Jonathan whispers in your ear, causing goosebumps to arise on your skin, “It’s a fun line to walk.”
Annoyance swells in your chest. You desperately wanted him to shut his bratty mouth. You also wanted to enjoy the rest of the party, but now that Jonathan had you riled up in anger, you wanted nothing more than to slam him against the wall and-
“Everything okay over here?” Bruce approaches suddenly, taking you by surprise.
“Everything is fine, sweetheart,” you place your hand on Bruce’s chest as a warning, “Nothing to worry about.”
“Dr. Crane isn’t bothering you, is he?” Bruce’s nostrils flare.
“Not at all,” you defend the doctor, “In fact, I’m probably annoying him.”
Bruce laughs humorlessly, “Oh, is that so?”
You cock your head at him, “Did you need something, dear?”
“Just want to speak with you privately,” Bruce says.
You go to say something, but Bruce interrupts you, “Both of you.”
If Jonathan is just as confused as you are, he doesn’t show it. 
“Lead the way, Mr. Wayne.”
Bruce walks briskly to one of the guest rooms down the hall from the ballroom, making sure no one is following or watching the three of you. He ushers you and Jonathan inside, following suit before closing the door behind him. 
“You know,” Jonathan says, breaking the silence, “I never pegged Mrs. Wayne for the threatening type out of the two of you.”
You bite your tongue, and Bruce looks over at you.
“Say what you want to say. I brought the two of you in here so you could solve your conversation away from those nosy fuckers outside,” Bruce rolls his eyes, fixing his cuff links.
“We aren’t children, Bruce,” you scowl.
“Then act like it,” Bruce sasses back.
“I do not need two men on my bad side right now. Remember what happens when you’re on my bad side, Bruce?”
Bruce looks between you and Jonathan, a hint of nervousness in his eye, “Don’t bring him into this, darling.”
“No, no. I’m curious now,” Jonathan grins deviously, stepping closer to you, “What happens when someone is on your bad side, Mrs. Wayne?”
Now realizing how your words and threats may have sounded all night to Jonathan, you backpedal.
“Not what you think, Dr. Crane,” you cross your arms, taking a step back from the doctor.
“Oh really? So your antagonizing and threats don’t mean anything?”
“What do you think they mean?”
“As I said earlier, desire and hatred are very close to one another,” Jonathan says suavely, “And I honestly can’t tell which you feel toward me.”
You make a disgusted sound despite the growing need to pin this man down and give him what for. Not even sexually, but simply because you’re tired of him speaking. However, Jonathan wasn’t bad-looking by any means- and sometimes, you and Bruce liked to try new things. But you don’t think Bruce would want to fuck with a murderer and criminal, especially one he’s had close encounters within the city. Jonathan almost burned him alive once, so you aren’t sure about whatever he’s insinuating going very far with your husband. 
“Hatred,” you spit, “It’s hatred. Plus,” you look over at Bruce, “I don’t think my lover would appreciate me having anything to do with you anyway.”
Jonathan snorts, his eyes flickering between you and your husband, “Are you so sure about that?”
You furrow your brow, laughing incredulously at him, “I’m certain.”
“I don’t know,” Bruce says suddenly, “I wouldn’t mind seeing the fucker squirm on your account, Y/N.”
You nearly gasped, suddenly very aware of the animosity you were aiming at Dr. Jonathan Crane, now becoming sexual in nature. Not that you meant for it to, but now that it was insinuated out loud by someone other than Jonathan, you pondered your true feelings. As you’ve said, Jonathan was a looker. If you weren’t married to Bruce and the man wasn’t psychotic, you wouldn’t mind taking him for a ride. But you are married, and he is psychotic. 
Jonathan has his hands shoved in his pockets, a smirk on his face as he studies you, “You want this. Don’t deny it, Mrs. Wayne. I can tell by the look in your eyes.”
You purse your lips together, “What I want is for you to shut up and behave. All you do is act high and mighty when you’re nothing but a little rat.”
Bruce tries to hide his laugh by covering it with a cough, “I’ll let everyone know it’s time to leave. When I come back, you two better be taking care of things.”
You look at Bruce, who gives you a slight nod in approval to do as you wish before he steps out of the room. No one is in charge in the bedroom permanently between the two of you. The dominant role is shared or is back and forth, depending on the day. To your shock, Bruce gives you the complete reins in this situation. But Bruce knew how much you despised Dr. Crane for what he’s done, even if a part of you is desperately curious about him. Desperate enough to demean him sexually, even. You want to humiliate him. Make him cry and make him regret having even come here. You want him to think of you whenever he feels shame or embarrassment for the rest of his life. 
“A little rat, huh?” Jonathan chuckles, undoing his cufflinks.
“Yes,” you blink, forcing him to walk backward to the bed as he struggles to remove his blazer.
You shove him roughly onto the bed, watching him bounce from the mattress with a look of disorientation. Jonathan eventually gets his blazer off, discarding it onto the floor. You can’t properly climb on the bed with your gown on, so you reach behind your back, undoing the clasps that hold the silver dress together. You kick off your glittery heels, letting the gown slip to the floor in a pile. Underneath your dress, you decided a black lingerie set would do nicely. You’re glad you picked well, considering such a doting man was now staring at you like you were a piece of meat and he was starving. You try to ignore the logical side of your brain telling you this man is dangerous and crazy. But the other side of your brain is telling you that his cock is definitely dangerous and crazy, too. And you wanted to find out for sure. 
“Now,” you begin to crawl to where Jonathan wordlessly lays, watching you carefully, “Are you going to be good and keep your mouth shut, pretty boy?”
“No promises,” Jonathan flashes a toothy grin, and you angrily rip his button-up open, buttons flying everywhere across the room.
Jonathan’s mouth hangs open, “That was an expensive shirt.”
“Nothing you can’t replace,” you shrug, running your hands along Jonathan’s handsome chest before letting your nails graze his nipples.
Jonathan shudders at the feeling, and you remove your hands from him, sitting back on your heels, “Lay on the pillows.”
“Ma’am, yes ma’am,” Jonathan purrs, doing as told, surprisingly.
You hear the door open behind you, and you turn around quickly to see Bruce.
“Everyone is cleared out. Brought some fun stuff, too,” he places a box on the floor, kicking it to the end of the bed for you to grab it.
You lean down over the edge of the bed and retrieve the box, crawling on your knees to where Jonathan lies. You open the box and hum in satisfaction at Bruce’s choice of toys and trinkets. You fiddle with one toy, dragging your gaze to Jonathan with a wicked smile on your face. But before you reveal the toy, you snatch some rope out of the box.
“Now you have no choice but to be good, Dr. Crane,” you snicker, offering Bruce some of the rope to tie Jonathan’s left wrist to the bedpost with.
You tie Jonathan’s right wrist tight enough for him not to move too much but not enough to where blood flow is cut off. Jonathan tugs at the rope, looking at you and Bruce with a nervous yet exhilarating smile.
“I’m privileged to be living such a fantasy,” Jonathan sighs.
“You’ll be wishing you had never stepped foot in this house when she’s done with you,” Bruce smirks, unbuttoning his shirt cuffs and rolling his sleeves up.
“Ah,” Jonathan laughs.
Before he can comment any further, you shove a ball gag into his mouth, strapping it behind his head securely. A deep feeling of satisfaction to him finally being quiet fills you. But the joy of seeing such an evil man at your mercy is more intense. 
“You better be glad I chose the ball gag instead of having Bruce have his way with that pretty mouth of yours, Crane,” you say, and Bruce shakes his head from where he stands beside the bed.
Drool begins seeping out of the sides of Jonathan’s mouth, and you can’t help but coo at the sight of his tightening pants and his reddening cheeks. You grab his face between your fingers, squishing his flesh. You hum in satisfaction before letting go of his face and focusing on his slacks. You all but tear his belt off his hips, hurrying to unbutton his pants before ripping them down his thighs. Bruce removes the pants the rest of the way as you climb onto Jonathan’s lap, your clothed core atop his throbbing, leaking bulge.
You kiss Jonathan’s jaw, leaving harsh bites along the column of his throat as you travel down, continuing your assault on the skin of his chest and torso. You reach the band of his underwear, which you tease with your hands, snapping the band against Jonathan’s skin. He tries his best to laugh from underneath the ball gag, spit sputtering from the gaps of his mouth. You slowly peel his underwear down his legs, watching as his hard cock slaps against his stomach. You let Bruce pull the underwear off completely, and he tosses it somewhere in the room to be found later. You lean down to lick the bead of precum off Jonathan's tip before pulling away completely, allowing Bruce the room to tie up the doctor’s ankles to the bottom bedposts. You stand at the foot of the bed, chuckling darkly as Jonathan struggles against the restraints. 
“Not so powerful now, are you, Dr. Crane?” you laugh, knowing he didn’t like you calling him by his professional name, “You look so pathetic, lying there with your poor cock out for us to see. Bet you wish one of us would touch it for you, hmm?”
Jonathan stays silent, his eyes boring into yours as he yanks his arms, testing the rope’s strength. He realizes he truly can’t move or speak and that he’s entirely at you and Bruce’s mercy. Not the worst position to be in, Jonathan thinks. 
“Which of us should do the honors?” you ask Bruce, a playful smile on your face. 
It isn’t often Bruce gets to mess with the other man during your experimental sexual encounters. Still, you figure this is personal enough for him to want to be involved. 
“You can take this one. I’ve got other plans,” Bruce says, smirking deviously.
“Oh really?” you grin, “I’m excited to see those.”
You climb back on the bed, moving toward Jonathan’s lap, where his weeping cock is getting redder by the second. Grabbing the base of it, you move it forward enough for it to meet your lips. You lap your tongue on Jonathan’s tip, smearing the precum around before licking a stripe up his entire length. You pull away, letting his cock slap painfully against his stomach again. You harshly grip Jonathan’s balls, causing him to cry out muffled. You massage them as you take his length into your mouth, bobbing your head as you continue to take him in entirely. You press your breasts into the bed, letting your ass be exposed for Bruce to take advantage of as you suck off Jonathan. Bruce wastes no time walking over to you, letting his hands run over your asscheeks before he pulls your pretty black underwear off. Bruce dips his head down to flatten his tongue against your wet slit, gathering your arousal as he swirls it around your cunt. You moan around Jonathan’s cock, causing him to twitch. 
“God, I love this pussy,” Bruce pants against you, “Too bad you can’t get a taste, Crane.”
You peer your eyes up to Jonathan’s, his icy blue eyes now dark from his blown pupils. He’s glaring at Bruce, trying to regulate his breathing as his tip hits the back of your throat. Jonathan’s eyes roll into the back of his head as you fuck him with your mouth, letting his cock slam into your throat. Jonathan tries to thrust into your mouth, but you push his hips down against the mattress. You’re slobbering, and tears are streaming down your face as you take his length as much as you can, wanting him to get as close to cumming as possible. Bruce sucks your clit harshly, letting two fingers slip into your wet pussy. You groan, the vibrations sending Jonathan batty. You feel him getting close, and you blindly fumble around for the box of toys that still remains on the bed somewhere. You find it, pulling off Jonthan’s cock as it twitches uncontrollably. He growls as you find the toy you were looking for. You give Jonathan a few pumps, gripping his length as tight as you can, watching as the precum helplessly spills from him. Before Jonathan can react or cum, you slip a cock ring onto him, sliding it down to his base. He cries out from behind the ball gag, his chest heaving. You lay your head on his thigh, watching as his cock turns bright red. Bruce continues to eat you out, his teeth brushing against your clit occasionally, causing you to moan. Your breath hits Jonathan’s angry length, making him shiver. You look him in the eyes as Bruce adds a third finger, fucking into your g spot harshly as he bites at your bundle of nerves. You maintain eye contact with Jonathan as you cum, letting your nails dig into the soft flesh on his thighs.
“Lucky for me,” you trace Jonathan’s tip teasingly with your finger, catching your breath, “I get to cum as much as I want.”
Jonathan stares at you without making a sound, focusing on his breathing so he doesn’t explode into a fine mist from the overstimulation. 
“Now it’s your turn since you’ve been a good boy,” you remove the ball gag from Jonathan’s mouth, licking up his spit from his lips before he can lick it off himself.
“Open your mouth,” you demand, and Jonathan does as told.
You gather his and your saliva in your mouth before spitting it onto his tongue. 
“Now show me how good you are at eating pussy, Dr. Crane.”
You flip yourself around, hovering over Jonathan’s face as you slowly remove the cock ring. Bruce removes his button-up, laying down between Jonathan’s spread legs. Jonathan lets out a strangled cry at the feeling of Bruce’s hot mouth on his sensitive cock. You push your pulsing cunt onto Jonathan’s face, to which he happily starts lapping hungrily. You watch as Bruce hollows his cheeks around Jonathan, and the sight alone makes you even wetter than before. 
“Fuck,” you mutter, Bruce’s eyes meeting yours.
You rock your hips against Jonathan’s tongue, urging him to continue. Jonathan wishes he could bury his fingers in your cunt, but he settles for his tongue instead. Twisting and pushing it inside you, he uses his nose to press against your clit, shaking his head. You grip Jonathan’s hair, cursing at the feeling of his tongue dragging in your walls and his nose flicking your bundle of nerves. You grasp your barely clothed breasts, letting your thumbs play with your nipples through the thin lace. Bruce moans around Jonathan while watching you, letting Jonathan fuck into his throat.
“Wanna cum, you piece of shit?” Bruce pulls off Jonathan, who gasps a ‘yes,’ “Be careful what you ask for,” Bruce chuckles.
You plan on milking the doctor for all he’s got all night. You want him spent and begging for mercy. Anything to make him miserable.
Bruce takes Jonathan back into his mouth, bobbing up and down quickly and stroking what he won’t take into his mouth. Bruce allows Jonathan to buck his hips into his face. Jonathan lets out a pitiful cry as he cums in your husband’s mouth, white-hot spurts of seed shooting down Bruce’s throat. You feel Jonathan roll your clit between his teeth before sucking it between his lips as he rides his high. You growl, letting your self-control go out the window. You chase your own high, letting Jonathan torture and tease your bundle of nerves with his tongue and teeth until you finally release in his mouth. Jonathan slurps and suckles every drop of your arousal from your cunt, licking until you pull off him. 
“Lucky for you,” you pant, beginning to untie the rope bound to Jonathan’s wrists, “This next part requires your cooperation. Promise you’ll behave?”
“Yes, Mrs. Wayne,” Jonathan nods.
You let Bruce finish untying the doctor as you discard your bra. You instruct Jonathan to move to the side, allowing you to lie down in his place. You demand that Jonathan climb on top of you. he does as told, and Bruce roughly pushes Jonthan’s face into your chest. You laugh at Bruce’s typical roughness, especially when it makes Jonathan look flustered. His ass is now in the air, revealed to Bruce. 
“Have you ever been fucked in the ass like a good boy?” you ask Jonathan, your fingers in his hair.
He doesn’t look at you or respond.
“I’m asking you a question, Jonathaaan,” you say threateningly, your fingers now gripping his hair harshly as you lift his head for him to look at you.
“No,” Jonathan says breathlessly.
“Well, that’s about to change,” you say, “Any regrets about being smart-mouthed to me yet, Dr. Crane?”
Jonathan glares at you, panting as Bruce spreads his ass apart, “Not yet.”
“Good,” you smile, letting his head drop abc to your chest, “Now obey me and show me how much you’re enjoying this.”
You move Jonathan’s face, maneuvering his mouth to your hardened and sensitive nipple. Bruce takes some lube from the box he brought, smearing it against his fingers before teasing Jonathan’s asshole with the tip of his index finger. Jonathan keens around you, his body beginning to shake as Bruce slowly pushes a finger inside him. Jonathan sucks harshly on your nipple, gasping as your husband wiggles his finger inside his tight ass. He laps at your bud, focusing on trying to please you and taking Bruce’s long finger simultaneously. A second finger is added, stretching Jonathan further. The doctor lets out a sharp groan at the delectable burn. He attacks your other breast, letting his finger circle around the one he was just attached to. Bruce prods a third finger into Jonathan, and he lurches forward from the feeling of fullness. 
“If you think you’re full now, just wait for Bruce’s fat cock, baby boy,” you taunt.
Bruce twists and curls his fingers inside Jonathan, doing his best to prep him for his unforgiving length. When he pulls his hand away, Jonathan gasps from the sudden emptiness. Bruce spreads his ass apart again, his slacks and underwear now discarded as his hardened cock pressed against Joanthan’s gaping hole. Jonathan whimpers around your nipple, pausing momentarily as Bruce slides himself into Jonathan. 
“Fuck,” Jonathan shudders.
“You can stop now. I need you elsewhere,” you pull Jonathan’s head off your breasts, sneaking your hand between the two of you to his newly hardened cock, stroking it in your hand in time for Bruce to bottom out. 
Jonathan whines, collapsing on your torso as the air leaves him.
“Tapped out already?” you pout, sticking your bottom lip out at Jonathan when you lift his head by his hair again, “Too fucking bad.”
Bruce then pulls out of Jonathan almost all the way before slamming back into him, his tip brushing against Jonathan’s prostate. Jonathan screams as you guide his cock between your slick folds, his body overstimulated. You let Jonathan weakly push his length inside your soaking cunt, your walls enveloping him immediately. Bruce wraps an arm around Jonathan’s chest, anchoring himself to the doctor. His other hand grips Jonathan’s hip with intensity. The feeling of Bruce pounding into Jonathan’s tight little ass affects you directly as Jonathan pushes deeper inside you every time Bruce thrusts into him. Soon, a rhythm is established, and you’re nearly in tears from pleasure as you watch Jonathan become a withering, crying mess underneath Bruce. 
“Doing so good taking Bruce’s huge cock,” you praise Jonathan, bucking your hips with his every time he involuntarily moves forward, “You could at least try a little harder to fuck me like you want to, though.”
Jonathan’s forehead is teeming with sweat as he struggles to actually thrust into you while Bruce fucks into his prostate. You give him the benefit of the doubt- the first time getting fucked in the ass is intense. So you rock and swivel your hips on Jonathan’s cock roughly, letting him reach up to grab your breasts for leverage. He pinches your nipples, twisting them hard, sending electricity to your cunt. You pulse around Jonathan’s length, causing him to grunt miserably. Bruce’s hips are slapping onto Jonathan’s asscheeks loudly, and Jonathan’s cock twitches pitifully inside you.
“Cum, sweet thing,” you coax Jonathan, whose hair has long since lost its gel hold and has begun flopping into his face, “Cum inside me.”
Jonathan starts fucking into you the best he can, tears streaming down his face as he cums, a hoarse scream leaving his throat. Bruce is still fucking him without mercy, and you let Jonathan’s soft cock remain inside you as he whimpers helplessly, his hands gripping your sides.
“That’s it,” you praise him gently, “Let Batman fuck you silly like you deserve.”
Jonathan peers up at you, giving you the dirtiest look he can muster as you cackle, Bruce grunting as he cums inside Jonthan’s ass and on his back. 
“Christ,” Bruce sighs, pushing his hair from his face as he winces, pulling out of Jonathan’s quivering asshole.
Jonathan collapses on top of you in a mess of sweat, tears, and cum. You let him catch his breath before sliding out from under him.
“One last thing, sweetie,” you say, your tone sugary, “Sit up on the bed for us.”
Jonathan weakly pushes himself up, flipping onto his back and laying his head on the pillows.
“Touch yourself,” you demand, sitting on your knees at the end of the bed beside Bruce, “I want you to cum until you can’t cum anymore.”
Jonathan opens his mouth to protest, but you motion for him to shush, to which he tiredly gives in. You dip your hand to your slick clit, swiping at it as Jonathan strokes his sensitive cock for you. Bruce watches you and Jonathan touch yourselves, unable to really get himself up again. He instead sits behind you, playing with your tits and rubbing his large hands on your hot, sticky skin. Bruce relishes in watching Jonathan fall apart as he looks away in embarrassment.
“Keep your eyes on me, Crane,” Bruce’s voice booms, making Jonathan jump.
Jonathan gulps, reluctantly keeping eye contact with Bruce as he bucks into his hand, moaning hoarsely as he gets close. He can’t help but think about how he was between the two of you, getting fucked by you and Bruce at the same time. With that, cum shoots from his overused cock onto his stomach, and he cries out in embarrassment when you demand he get off again.
You stay like that, letting Bruce replace your hand as you spread your legs further open to allow him to fuck you with his fingers. You bounce on them, moaning quietly as Jonathan fights to keep his eyes open, his wrist flicking to the best of his ability. The night goes on, and Jonathan eventually taps out, sobbing almost uncontrollably as he runs out of cum. You and Bruce give him time alone before slowly moving him to the shower, where you help him wash off. You and your husband also washed yourselves off, assisting Jonathan out of the shower when you were all done. He’s wrapped in a towel, wincing as he walks back to the bed and curls up under the covers. You follow suit, wrapping your arms around Jonathan and soothing him as he finally falls asleep. Bruce holds you from behind, sighing contently.
“Too bad it takes doing this to humble a villain,” Bruce jokes.
“And the fact I could help was exciting,” you chuckle, “I never get to fight criminals like you do.”
“Maybe you should. You’ve got the mouth for it. Your sass is unmatched,” Bruce buries his nose in your hair.
“Mmm, I think I’m good,” you say, stroking Jonathan’s hair out of his face, “One villain is enough for me, I think.”
You and Bruce quietly watch the evil, despicable fucker sleep soundly. 
“Can we keep him?” you ask Bruce, to which he tries not to burst out laughing.
“So you can torture him more? Absolutely.”
“Awesome.”
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reiderwriter · 2 months
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My Love Is Mine All Mine
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Week 2 of my Playlist series 🎧💕
Summary: Spencer Reid always liked broken things, but you didn't think you could be fixed. Maybe all you needed was understanding and companionship.
Warnings: slight angst, case details mentioned - misogyny, kidnapping, etc, but no graphic/ explicit details. Hurt/Comfort.
A/N: Tumblr, please let me post haha I've been good, I promise 🙏 This fic is so late because I've been having some technical issues with tumblr and it has greatly annoyed me, so hopefully if you're seeing this it's been fixed? Who knows... Thank you to everyone who has sent in songs so far for the Playlist series, I'll be cresting the playlist today and posting it for everyone to see and use!
Masterlist || Series Playlist
Falling for Spencer Reid wasn't in your plan for the new year, but looking back, it was probably something that was just bound to happen. 
He'd been the first person to show you any kindness after everything you went through, the first person who hadn't put their own rigid horror at your past before their attempts at sympathy. 
You watched the way people recoiled from you as you told them - bluntly, you had to be blunt - what the man in the cabin had done to you. 
He listened to your words, didn't interrupt, didn't quietly shake in anger, and refuse to meet your eyes like your father did, didn't weep for her baby like your mother did. He took your hand as it shook. He held your gaze. 
It was his job to ask questions, but there weren't many left to answer. 
The only reason you were alive was because his team had tracked the string of bodies to your kidnappers home. You were alive because one of his coworkers had put a bullet through his head, ending your nightmare. 
The very idea of love was repulsive to you as you emerged from that basement in the first days of the next year, and you remembered thinking the snow looked fresh and soft. You remembered wanting to lay in it, to wrap it around yourself like a warm blanket and drift into sleep. The cold ground would be as much comfort as you would allow yourself. 
Because after everything, you knew you didn't deserve love. 
You accepted understanding from him, though. 
When the shock wore off, you were awash in all the misery inflicted upon you. You raged, kicked, screamed, broke things, and made people uncomfortable. Nothing would numb the pain of being trapped inside your head, your head still trapped inside that basement, that cage. 
He came to visit you at the hospital. The nurses had given up on you, were content you were physically healing, and that they had technically done their job but not bothered by your deteriorating mental state. Some days, you swore that they pierced your skin in the wrong places purposefully, not even searching for your vein. 
But then he was there, with a book and a chess board, and he'd asked you if you'd ever played before. 
“No. Chess always seemed too…” You swallowed the bile that drowned your lungs and tried again. “Before, it was boring. An old person game, too many rules. Now… He said we shouldn't do things like this. Said we shouldn't cultivate our minds.” 
It was a confession again, but one that took a weight off your shoulders, and not one that pushed it further down. 
“Would you like to learn?” His tone was so soft and awkward, like a teenage boy asking a girl out on a first date, that you almost giggled. 
“I'll be honest and say you'll never beat me, I've played through most board combinations, including a large proportion of the 10^80 theorised checkmate positions, so if you'd rather do something else, that's fine, or I can leave, too, if… you'd… prefer?” 
You had laughed then, a thing that bubbled up from the pit of your stomach and left your shoulders shaking as you gasped for breath doubled over. 
You'd been in hell for six months, and he'd drawn you out of it for a few moments by rambling about chess. 
“Are you a patient person, Doctor Reid?” 
“I think so.”
“Then set up the board and let's play.” 
He beat you every time, obviously, but you enjoyed his small explanations of the moves, and you did improve slightly. 
More than that, you enjoyed his company. It wasn't that you talked extensively In your hospital room, oscillating between your lowest point and somewhere just a rung above that where the snow was falling and the air was fresh, but that he never looked at you the way others did. 
You were discharged and were sad to lose that small glimmer of normality. He'd come twice a week throughout January, and now you were back in your usual shape. You were being discharged, and so that would end. 
You were surprised that he came to pick you up from the hospital the day you left. 
The parents who had looked everywhere for you for half a year hadn't wanted to, and the close friends from before hadn't spared you a thought since reposting your missing poster on their social media pages. 
But the man you played chess with twice a week, the man who'd carried you out of hell himself was there. 
“Ready to go?” You nodded, dumbstruck, and followed as he grabbed your bag. 
You weren't exactly sure where it was you were going, but you followed the man anyway, only a small part of your brain shouting in protest considering the last time you'd been blindly trusting.
He led you back to an apartment with some bare furnishings but a large window and a warm soft blanket covering the bed. It wasn't his, but yours. 
“Your parents are paying for it. They're taking the city to court due to the circumstances. Apparently, there were numerous phone calls to law enforcement that went unnoticed, but the city is looking to settle, so you don't have to worry about rent for a while, maybe ever again. The WiFi is all set up, hot water is working, and so is the heating. The locks are triple enforced, and I'm right down the hall, so if you need-” 
“What?” 
He blinked at you and suddenly, looking sheepish, as if becoming aware that he'd presumed a friendship between the two of you without consulting you first. 
“I live down the hall.” 
You stared at each other for a few moments as you processed his words. He lived down the hall. He'd driven you to your new home, set everything up for you, and he lived down the hall. 
“You're a good man, Spencer Reid.” You whispered, turning away to not let the moment linger anymore than it already had. 
Chess nights became routine. You'd set up the board and play for an hour or two or until you were sick of losing. 
Gradually, though, the nights got longer. He'd arrive just as you were eating a meal, and you'd invite him to join you, or he'd bring along takeaway and you'd eat quietly together, talking about everything and nothing.  
One day, you'd mentioned a film. A popular one, one you'd loved as a child and still rewatched to this day. 
“I've never seen it, is it good?” He'd said. And in your shock, you jumped up and sent half the chessboard flying. 
“Well, it seems that now our game is over, that we have time to give you an education, Doctor Reid.” 
“I have three PhD's-” 
“And still you haven't seen Clueless?” 
You'd pulled him over to the couch he'd picked out for you, loaded up the movie and then invented a new tradition. 
Chess nights and film nights were separate days of the week. So he could always promise to be around for one of them even if he had to miss the other because of work. 
You didn't ask him about his job anymore. He saved people like you, and you didn't need to be thinking about people like you too much.
What they went through, if they survived physically. If they survived in other ways. 
He always visited you first when he returned, though. There would be a knock on your door at some point in the day or night, and he'd let you know he was home safe. 
Another tradition. You'd opened the door to let him in the first time he'd returned from a case after you moved in, and he'd leaned down and wrapped his arms around you. 
You heard the breath of relief, loud and emotional, and hadn't quite realised it had come from you until a few minutes later. Some part of you had thought he wouldn't come back. 
Now, every time he came home, you ran to the door and quietly comforted each other, reminding the other that no matter what happened, you were both there for each other. 
You weren't sure when traditions and movies turned into love or if it had lingered over you the entire time. You didn't think you could love someone right then, your heart broken into small pieces with the torment you'd suffered. 
But it was stitched back together with pieces of him still lodged inside. He was in the very fabric of your being as you became whole again. 
The truth was that you most likely couldn't find love again because there was no room in your heart for anyone else. And you'd never be able to reschedule chess nights to go on dates anyway. 
You weren't sure if Spencer ever figured out how much of hum you carried around with him, how your eyes followed his lips as he ran through decades of memories to give you the fact he thought would please you the most. You weren't sure if he loved you as much as you did him until you were.
You'd agreed to watch one of his movies for a change, agreeing to stop the streak of 80s brat pack classics to watch a black and white war film from Russia with no subtitles. You'd sat together on that couch under blankets you'd bought together months earlier, and he'd pulled you in closer.
“I want to watch the movie and translate at the same time. You should sit here.” He'd pulled you into his lap, letting your back fall against his chest as his lips fell to your ears, and he began to whisper. 
Sitting there so closely, so intimately, was almost torture. Unconsciously, your head tipped back with his words, displaying your neck and shoulders, silently willing his lips to drift even once. His arms wrapped around your waist, and you did your best not to squirm the entire movie, but with your heart beating out of your chest, it was a hopeless cause. 
“Did you enjoy it?” He whispered as the credits rolled, but you hadn't even noticed the movie had ended. It wasn't until the silence that followed his question stretched out notably that you came back to reality. You couldn't answer, in fact. You gaped for a few short moments, hoping something vague but accurate enough would just pop into your mind. 
As you attempted to negotiate yourself out of distraction, you turned your face to his, but he was closer than you thought.
Your noses touched, and your breaths mingled. His arms still wrapped around your waist, and your blankets still anchored you to one another. 
“I wasn't paying attention to the movie, Spencer. I'm sorry.” The words came out of you so fast, yet so quietly that you were surprised yourself how honest you had chosen to be. 
“Why not?” He asked, eyes having drifted sleepily down to gaze at your lips. 
You didn't answer his question but felt your cheeks flush red. You thought about pulling away, moving back, or at least laughing everything off, but you didn't. You stayed there, still like a deer in headlights. 
“Your voice was too distracting,” You forced some of the tension out of your body and let your head fall against his shoulder again, hoping this moment wouldn't end anytime soon. 
“Distracting?” He sounded concerned and shifted in his seat, lifting you up from your happy place in his arms until you were again face to face. “Did I make you uncomfortable?” 
The look on his face was so concerned and focused that you had to pause for a second to catch your breath. He cared about your comfort so much and paid attention to each word that came out of your mouth. He wanted your happiness more than anything in the world. 
“No. I'm never uncomfortable with you, Spencer.” You were back to whispering now, hands floating up to grab his own, fidgeting by his sides. You bought them up to your face and guided his hands to your cheeks, needing to show him just how comfortable you were with him in actions, not just words. Words could be dishonest. Actions were honest. 
His concern melted away as he began stroking your cheek with his thumb, smiling sweetly at you. 
Though you were both content, you'd never been quite this intimate before. So when his thumb swiped over the corner of your lips, your eyes both caught on each other. You could see him weighing up the outcomes in his head, going back and forth between pulling away and pushing in closer.
Slowly and softly, as though he were trying not to startle you, his head moved closer until his lips were on yours. 
It was a quiet kiss. You wouldn't describe it as fireworks, or butterflies, or anything loud and grand and passionate. It was quiet, and it was right. 
He pulled away seconds later, trying to gauge your reaction, but you followed him away and kissed him again. 
When you finally pulled away, it took you a few seconds to realise you'd climbed back into his lap, unconsciously having moved closer to him. You guiltily looked up, waiting to see any discomfort on his features, but to your surprise, he was busy straightening out your hair. 
“I love you, Spencer,” you whispered as he took care of you. He smiled, looking down at you once again, pulling his arms around you to gently lower both of you down to a laying position on your couch. 
“I love you, too,” he said as you held each other and drifted into contented sleep.
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sleeplesssmoll · 4 months
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I think Vertin might be a tactile person.
Here are examples taken from the voice lines and context clues.  This isn't an all conclusive list of touchy interactions, just what I could find. Someone stop her before she gets hurt. Update: I'm going to keep adding on as we find more interactions together because this is really fun.
Sotheby (hat and hair): Stop it! You can't just touch an adult's head! (She is 13. Vertin probably sees her as a baby and pat her head).
Bette (hands): Ha ha ... They might be a little rough. To tightly grab the eave does require abundant practice. (assuming Vertin is holding her hand. Don’t ask me how we got here.)
Rabies (clothing and torso): Straws ... be hugged. Rabies ... feels it. (she hugged him 🥹)
A Knight (hat and hair): One step further, and you will be in close contact with Someone's nose... As long as you can hit Someone's head. (how close is Vertin standing to the AK? Or maybe she was looking for an invisible head to pat.)
Mesmer Jr (Hands) :Compared to the incurable anxiety, these wounds are minor. Oh, watch your distance. (smh Vertin not everyone likes being touched.)
Melania (hat and hair): "Well done. Please keep on." ...Aren't you going to say that? (more headpats but Melania needs vocal praise too.)
Lilya
Clothing and torso:  Feel awesome? Now it's my turn to pet you. (...what is Vertin petting? This is clothing and torso but I'm lost.)
Hat and hair: You should be grateful that I am too lazy to move now. Or you should know that the first-class pilot’s got a first-glass head-butt, too. (Vertin taking advantage of the moment to give headpats. I'm telling you, its a THING)
Leilani (Hands): Shaka brah! Ooh! Do you want a handshake or a high-five, my friend? I'm fine with either! (She’s so wholesome)
Cristallo 
hat and hair: Are you patting my head? The doctor says, this is a reward for good children. Have I done something right? 
Hands and sleeves: Would you like to hold my hands? I could be with you anytime. (Cristallo is weak and frail. The nurses say she could be blown away by a gust of wind. Despite this she says she’ll be with Vertin anytime. To me it reads as Vertin being worried Cristallo will disappear too. Cristallo notices so she offers to hold hands and says she will always be here as a way to comfort her.)
Darley Clatter
Hat and Hair:  Oh ... I can't deny you are really good at patting.
Clothing and Torso: Take a look at my beautiful muscles! I don't need to explain how fabulous I am. Hey, watch out! Rub me in the direction my mane grows.
Bonus Intimacy : Adorable? Ahh? You don't even have a taste! (Vertin pets him and calls him adorable. Darley, don’t let the girlies know. They might end your noble bloodline.)
Pavia (Hat and Hair): Wanna know how many holes I've made on others' heads? No? Then stop it. (What possessed her to give Pavia headpats?)
Dikke (hat and hair): Thou art overstepping my boundaries, arcanist. (I’m guessing Vertin is at it again with the headpats. Dikke smiles when she says this so she isn’t offended. If anything, she seems amused. )
Eternity (hands and sleeves): Go on, try holding it, and feel its temperature rising in your hand… Easy, sweetheart… take it easy, heh heh… (more hand holding but Vertin wasn’t prepared this time)
An-an Lee (hands and sleeves): What? You want a palm reading? (Vertin, why are you like this? Are you randomly touching people's hands?)
I feel like I should have picked up on this sooner. Gift-giving, hand holding, and headpats. This is the Timekeeper way.
Regulus (hands and sleeves): What do you want? I don't have any spare scratch. (I'm sure she knows you're broke since she's your boss. Vertin's just being Vertin at this point.
Vertin leads Regulus by the hand into her Suitcase in the prologue
Blonney (hands): Interesting! It's been a while since I last met someone who would start with holding hands.
She also holds Blonney's hand as she calms her down during the green lake event.
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luveline · 4 months
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hi can i request girl dad!aaron 🥺🥺 i am such a sucker for him, anything would be amazing thank you so much <3
hope this is okay!! —you have big news for your small family. 1.5k pregnant!mom!reader
When you first married his father, you weren't expecting Jack Hotchner to like you very much. Losing his mom so young, you wouldn't have blamed him for resenting you, or even hating you. You were like a stranger in his home. 
Things are different now. Jack lays in your lap with his head on your shoulder, and maybe he's a little too old for such a coddling cuddle, but who really cares? You love him and you love holding him, and if he wants some extra comfort tonight you're happy to give it. Plus, you have something you've been meaning to tell him.
“He doesn't have real headlights, did you know?” Jack asks. “They're just stickers.” 
You raise your brows at the car on screen. “No kidding.” You brush your fingers through his hair. He's blonde like his mom, though that blonde has turned brown the older he gets. 
“Race cars don't have headlights.”
“They don't need them,” you say. Jack smiles at you shyly and leans into your neck, clearly pleased. 
You're very, very glad that you ended up being someone he loved. It's a privilege to get to look after him, and to be his step mom. In the same way you're lucky to be Aaron's partner and Jane's mom, too. 
“Think dad's made dinner?” you ask. 
“No, he's probably just talking to your sister.” 
Yes, well. You can't blame him, nor would you want him to stop. He talks to Jane like she understands, and Jane, not even two years old, nearly brand new to the world, soaks him in. You can hear him if you strain, the dulcet cadence of his voice under the steady hum of the dishwasher. 
“That's okay, sweetheart, don't get upset,” he's saying, “it's okay. Come here, I've got you.” 
Jane starts to cry. You and Jack give one another the look, apprehensive in hoping it won't turn into a full blown melt down. 
“Honey?” Aaron calls. “Sorry, where did you put her other pacifier?” 
You kiss Jack's hair. “Sorry, bub. Wanna come with me?” 
Jack wants to stay and watch Cars. You wrap him in a throw blanket and make your way into the Hotchner kitchen, where Aaron rifles through the drawers and cabinets with Jane held snugly to his chest. “I know,” he says, “I know. I'll get it.” 
You nudge him aside. You only know where the spare pacifier is because you put away the wooden spoons last night and pushed it back. You fish for it, a ladybug made of glittery red plastic, and Jane's crying slows as soon as you pull it free. She grizzles while you rinse it, but she settles when you hand it over. 
“This is not the best, is it? The pacifiers?” you murmur. 
“She dropped her other one and it rolled under the oven. And no. Not ideal.” He pats her back gently. “As long as she stops before she gets her big teeth, she'll be okay.” 
“Do you think it's a comfort issue?” you ask. 
“No,” he says. You worry about stuff like this constantly, but he knows kids are more hardy, and he isn't worried. “Sorry for making you get up.” 
He hates when she cries; he may see his kids as a hardy bunch, but he takes their upset as a personal failure half the time. His concern for her overrides his concern for you, but in a few weeks that might change. You can't imagine him calling you to find something again when your stomach is round as a honeydew. 
You've been meaning to tell him about that, too. 
You're not secret-keeping immorally, he does want another baby, but you've been having a little bit of fun. He's gone on cases so often lately that he hasn't been able to keep track of you, or your doctor's appointments.
You watch him with Jane, and you think about him with Jack, and you know he's going to be happy. He's told you as much before. 
“My poor girl,” he says, covering the back of Jane's head with his hand and pulling her under his chin. He looks as fine as ever, tall, dark and handsome to a fault. Jane's lips smack as she sucks and digs her teary cheek into his chest. 
You can feel his gaze on you. “Is now a good time?” he asks. 
You shrug. “For what?” 
“To tell me what you're not telling me.” 
“Oh, busted,” you croon, aiming for his shoulder. 
You do as Jane had and press your cheek to his front, your eye forced shut. 
“What do you think it is?” you ask. 
He makes a strange noise. You can practically hear the possibilities for your secret running through his head. His birthday is vaguely soon, so that's what he'll settle on first. But Aaron likes to disregard the obvious as most people do, only circling back to it when there's no other lead to follow. 
“How big of a secret is it?” he asks, rubbing Jane's back diligently. She makes a happy sound, and for a moment he forgets his plight to kiss the top of her head. 
You speak quietly, carefully, because it is big, huge news. “The pamphlets say it’s about the size of a strawberry.” 
He puts his cheek to Jane's head softly, looking at you in confusion. A second, another, and his eyebrows start to relax, rise, a smile on his lips like it's too good to be true. “You are?” he asks in surprise.
Jack appears in the doorway with the throw blanket trailing behind him. “Y/N, when are you coming back to watch TV?” 
“Jack, lovely, come here. I have something to tell you,” you say. 
Aaron grabs your wrist. When you meet his eyes, he squeezes gently. “You're sure?” he asks. 
“The doctor seemed pretty certain, handsome.” You lower your voice as Jack comes to stand in front of you. “Are you happy?” 
“Happy about what?” 
You put your hand on your stomach cautiously, worried about Aaron and how quiet he's being, and if it's as okay to tell Jack as you'd thought, but that action is what gets him. “I love you,” he says quizzically, as though his being happy is totally dependent on the fact. “Of course I'm happy. This is the best secret you could've kept.” 
“About what?” Jack asks, patting your arm. 
You bend down just a bit to see his face properly. “It's a secret you can't tell anyone for a while, okay? The only people who can know for now are me, you, and dad.” 
“Can I tell Jane?” he asks. 
“Yeah, buddy, you can tell your sister,” Aaron says. 
You peer at him from the corner of your eye, both concerned and pleased to see the wetness ringing his waterline, and the tenderness with which he holds Jane close, his thumb rubbing little circles into her back. 
“I'm going to have another baby,” you say. 
Jack's jaw drops. “Right now?” 
“No, not right now! You still remember last time?” you ask with a laugh, taking his shoulders into your hands. 
“You were crying and shouting for dad to hold your hand.” He pokes your stomach. “So it's like Jane?” 
“Maybe one day, sweetheart. For now, it's just a tiny baby.” 
Jack wants to see your stomach. He's expecting a much bigger bump than you have to offer, but you explain that eventually it'll get bigger again, and he seems quite pleased. Aaron makes sure to give him a hug and ask him if he's okay, to which Jack says, “Yes, but can we have a brother this time?” 
You rub the soft top of your stomach. “I'll see what I can do, Jack.” 
Aaron commandeers your attention, kissing you more times than you can count. You don't think you've ever seen him this happy now the reality has truly set in, asking Jane in his murmur, “Do you want to be a big sister?” 
She gurgles around the pacifier, leaving drool in a line down his chest. 
“I know, honey. I'm excited too. Let's clean you up, mm? And make mommy a cup of hot cocoa…” He narrows his eyes at you. “Would you sit down?” 
“I'm only ten weeks, I'm fine.”
“She's keeping secrets from me, and now she won't do what I'm asking,” he says to Jane. “Can you believe it? Anyone would think mommy doesn't like me as much as she claims.” 
You kiss his cheek. “M'having your baby, Aaron, again.” 
“That is a compelling argument.” He wipes Jane's cheek. “What do you think? Should we forgive her?” Jane laughs. He smiles at you, lovesick. You're not sure who for. “I guess we're letting you get away with this one, sweetheart. But no more secrets.”
“None,” you promise. 
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a-bit-of-a-queer-one · 4 months
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I loved Wild Blue Yonder, I thought it was a great episode. But if I see one more person proclaiming that the Doctor saying Isaac Newton was "hot" made the character "finally queer", I'm gonna set fire to sth.
For one thing, since they changed into a woman, the Doctor has, depending on one's definition, been canonically genderfluid/trans/nonbinary/genderqueer. That was made even more explicit last week in Star Beast. So saying that the Doctor as played by a man and using he/him pronouns calling a man "hot" somehow made the character queer is stupid in and of itself.
And secondly, the Doctor has long been regarded as aro and ace-coded by people of those communities and guess what? Aro and ace people really do exist and we are queer. And it would be lovely if other queer people could stop excluding us by saying that characters who provide what little, mostly accidental and incidental representation we get "become queer" by expressing same-sex attraction. It happened with Good Omens and it seems to be happening again with Doctor Who and I am so fucking tired of it
Edit (6th Dec 2023): Several people have pointed out in the notes that there have been quite a few instances of the Doctor ambiguously or indeed unambiguously expressing 'same-sex' attraction and exploring their gender identity/identities in the past, both in the show and in extended media. I just wanted to be absolutely clear on the fact that I was in way trying to diminish the importance of those moments by emphasing the aspect of asexuality and aromanticism in my post. That is not to say that I think anyone was implying that I was doing that, in fact everyone's been lovely (which is why I also wanted to thank everyone for their input, I learnt a lot, especially about the novels!!)
Of course, as an asexual, aromantic and agender/nonbinary person, that is the lens through which I watch the show and relate to the character of the Doctor. This does not make my reading of them any more or less valid than anyone else's. In fact, I absolutely love the fact that the Doctor is a character who speaks to people of so many different queer identities and I am so happy that RTD is exploring their queerness more explicitly, building on what he and so many other writers and also the actors have already established. I just hope that the fandom will respect the aro and ace aspects of the Doctor's queerness the same way they do their gender identities and other sexual and romantic orientations. Part of the reason I was initially quite worried about this was because of my experiences in the Good Omens fandom, particularly post series 2, as indicated in my original post. The other is that I doubt the show will explore the aro and ace aspects of the character as much as they may other queer identities - unfortunately aspecs have a history of being left behind in this regard...
But we will see, maybe I'll be proved wrong! For the time being, I just hope the queer community can celebrate all the different facets of the Doctor's undeniable queerness, including the aspec ones. And as the reactions to this post have been overwhelmingly supportive (I don't think I've seen a single outright negative response), I think this hope is far from unfounded.
(Sorry, this edit turned out to be longer than the original post...)
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strawberryspence · 1 year
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(God I am such in a shit mood. So here I wrote this.)
It's 1986. Steve falls in love with Eddie first. It's crazy. It's so crazy. He falls in love between the world ending for the fourth time and saving it for real this time. He falls in love between rushing into a hospital Eddie's bleeding body and staying by his bedside.
In the aftermath, they become friends. Real actual friends with a little more trauma than normal friendships but they support each other, help each other grow. They smoke weed, go to the quarry, go bowling. They have hundreds of D&D nights. They co-parents the kids and they drag Eddie to his graduation. They throw parties and pool parties. Go to Indiana to go barhopping and record thrifting. In-between all these moments Steve falls in love. He can't pin point when exactly, but maybe he's been in love with Eddie Munson all along.
Steve keeps it in, because their friendship was so much more important. He's the closest thing Steve will have as a bestfriend (Robin's not counted, because Robin's not just his bestfriend). The pining, the yearning, the longing, it's okay. It's okay as long as he has Eddie beside him and it's so much better than not having him.
It's 1991. It's 1991 when Steve finally cannot take it. He wants so much more with Eddie. By now, they've moved to Chicago, they're both struggling adults but at least they're together and what he feels for Eddie is killing him inside. He knows Eddie doesn't feel the same. He knows. But Steve still wants to tell him so he can hear it from Eddie's lips, that he doesn't feel the same, so Steve can just fucking move on.
Steve tells him. Steve tells him on a rainy evening. Eddie looks shocked, like he's never even thought about it and it truly hurts more than anything. Steve would rather get eaten by demobats again than this. Steve tells him that it's okay if he doesn't feel the same way. He just wants Eddie to reject him so he can finally, finally move on. Eddie looks at him, and tells him, "I will always love you, Stevie. But I don't think I've ever loved you in that way." They move out of their shared apartment, a mutual decision on both their sides.
They both stay in Chicago. They stay best friends who meets up every Friday night for a drink. They have lunches together. They talk about the kids and share tidbits of secrets that was supposed to be secrets. They're best friends and it's everything Steve Harrington has wanted as he tries to finally move on.
It's 1996. The whole Party is in town for whatever reason. They don't really need a reason to see each other. They're in Robin and Nancy's shared home. Eddie's DM-ing just like the old times.
Eddie's working at a small music studio as a Producer. It's nothing big yet, but he's finally in that stage in his life that he's happy and he's done something real in his life. Steve's getting his Phd in Child Psychology and it takes everything in Eddie to not tease and call him Doctor every fucking waking minute.
They're having a snack break in between the campaign. Eddie's sitting and eating on the couch when Robin plops down beside him, throwing her legs on his lap. They're still close, they see each other almost every other week. They laugh as they watch Steve and Dustin wrangle each other for a drink or a snack, no ones really sure.
"Hey, Eds?" Eddie hums, looking over at Robin.
"I am glad you and Steve stayed friends." The confession surprises him. They never talked about it after that night, some part of Eddie knows that Robin knows but they've never talked about it too.
"Of course, we stayed friends. Why wouldn't we?" Eddie answers, his voice unsure of why Robin is even bringing this up right now. It's been 5 years since that rainy night.
"I don't know. You know that love where you feel like you'll explode if you don't tell them? Like the one that makes you feel like your a ticking time bomb?" Eddie shakes his head as Robin continues, "That's what Steve had for you. I guess that love was also enough to just love you as a friend. I am glad you're both happy." Robin kisses his cheek before leaving.
Eddie stares at Steve, really looks at him, as he laughs and smiles with the kids as they catch up with their lives and Eddie watches as if in command, Steve turning to him like a boat finding his lighthouse. Steve smiles at him and it's a different one, his eyes crinkle into crescent moons and Eddie swears his eyes shine in the dark room and a bomb explodes in his heart.
Eddie tries to remember every time he felt this way around Steve. The day he wakes up from the hospital, the day he graduates high school, the day they drop of Dustin to college, the day they move in to their apartment, the day Steve told him that he loved him, every goddamn day in between.
And god, Eddie's the biggest fucking idiot. Eddie's been a ticking time bomb in the last ten years and he always thought it was just nothing. It was normal to love someone this much because, you know, he saved his life and Steve's his bestfriend. He didn't even realize he loves Steve, but that means nothing now, he's already five years too late. He's seen Steve going on dates, trying to move on from him and he even supported him.
It's 2000. Britney Spears is everywhere and Eddie Munson is still in love with Steve Harrington. He stops dating, gives up on it all together. He's the one pining, yearning and longing now and he hates it only because this is what Steve felt for so long and Eddie can't believe he even didn't notice.
Eddie's content in it. He missed his chance, he missed it by five years when Steve held out his heart to him in his palm. Eddie's happy in every aspect in his life. Eddie is working as a Producer in a big company now, if you see the latest big hit you can usually see his name in the writers and producers. He just bought Wayne his first apartment, he has a cat named Sabbath. Max and Lucas just got married. Robin and Nancy are adopting kids. Dustin is ring shopping. Will and Mike finally got their shit together. Steve is in the peak of his career, he's writing a book about child abandonment issues and teaching classes and giving seminars in his free time while dating the most gorgeous girl Eddie's ever seen. Eddie swears that if he isn't gay, she would be his type, not only that but she's actually kind and good to Steve. She works as a social worker and is an actual angel on earth and no matter what Eddie does, he doesn't have it in him to hate her. They're all sure they're headed to marriage. The kids all love her, and has Robin's stamp of approval. He is happy. Everyone is happy.
There's a big gaping hole in his heart that only Steve Harrington can fill and he doesn't know what to do when he stays up at night, in a big cold bed, alone, filled with regrets or when they're at parties and Steve's laughing with her and Eddie thinks that could've been him.
But it's okay, Eddie will swallow his feelings because the love of his life is happy. It's okay as long as he has Steve beside him because being his bestfriend, even if that means he'll have to stand behind him at his future wedding, is better than not having Steve in his life.
-> part two
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sleekswosobession · 19 days
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death is a funny thing
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alexia putellas x fem!reader
prompt: alexia angst on 10/10 out of angst scale - for madres bday
A/N: happy birthday madre @greynatomy ! 🥳🥳 you are now stuck at the restaurant
i cried while making this. i dont cry while writing or reading fanfic.
TW: Death, hurt/no comfort, the thought of me not making a part 2 for this
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
2 weeks. That's what the doctor said. 2 weeks until you're dead and you soul is gone from the earth. How does one hold that infomation? How are they supposed to take it? It's not like anyone's alive to really tell you how to cope or react.
So, you sit in silence. Being taken back to the memories of playing football as a child, being in your national team for the first time. Playing for your senior team for the first time. That first kiss with Alexia which was unlike any you'd had before. The first time you'd told her you loved her, and how she immediately said it back.
All of it would come to an end.
You knew you should've been here weeks ago when you first started feeling off, but you weren't one to go a doctor when something felt bad. Just hoped it would go away unless you knew it was an injury that'd affect your career. The only reason you were in the room was because Alexia dragged you there.
What would have happened if she hadn't?
You stare at the wall in front of you, mind without thoughts. Just the shell of someone who used to be there. You feel bad for Alexia, how would she cope? You knew she had plans of proposing, you just didn't know when. That will all be a dream in only a fortnight.
How much will change by then? Will she push you out like she does with most others? Or will she hold you close, thinking that if she did you wouldn't leave her when you both know that won't happen.
When you do look at her, there's tears streaming down her face. Staining her shirt and falling onto the floor. The doctor leads you both out giving a form of all legal action needed before you die. Who to give your money to, how you want to be buried or cremated.
You wonder how they can say such news then proceed to hand papers while being devoid of any emotion. Maybe they've done it too many times to really feel.
- - - - -
Alexia drives home, eyes still leaking with tears. You're not quite sure how she's driving but you both make it home. You watch her mundane and robotic movements, until she's in the living room. That's her breaking point.
You immediately go to her, wrapping your arms around her without saying a word. This makes her sob harder.
"I can't live without you. Please no." Is all you hear over the sound of her breaking down.
"Alexia." You say, but she shakes her head.
"Alexia look at me." Again, it's no use.
"Ale please." She finally listens, looking up shaking as her lip wobbles.
"When I am gone, you will be sad yes but I trust you'll get over me. I trust you will be even better than you are now. You are the greatest woman I've ever met and you are the strongest. I will be with you here until the end and even when I'm not here physically..." You pause and touch her heart with your hand. "I'll always be with you here, remember that. And if heaven or the afterlife is real, I'll watch over you. I promise." You whisper resting your forehead against her own.
She whails into the evening, you cry along with her. Reality and the fear of death finally sinking deep into your bones. You will die. You can't be here forever.
- - - - -
The next day when training is supposed to be on is when you tell everyone at the club, sadness lingers in the air as you hug your friends. The ones who had become a new family for you. The young players like Salma and Vicky whom you'd baiscally 'adopted' when they joined the senior team. You consoled them along with Caroline (your best friend) the most. Those apart from Alexia being the ones you were always with.
It was decided a farewell dinner would be hosted. The last memories and last time to be with you.
- - - - -
Alexia wouldn't leave your side, you didn't want to leave hers either. The weight she'd carry on herself after this is too much for your own failing heart. You wanted to be with her for the rest of your life, and by that you meant grow old. Not die at 27.
The dinner was as much as anyone would expect it to be. Teary eyes and frowns painted on everyones face. The mourning had started before you left, and somehow that was even more painful.
Your will was mainly going to the football club, with no family left to give it to. Part of it went to investment in womens sports and some went to Alexia. You'd asked to be cremated, 1/3 of your ashes in the new Camp Nou, 1/3 of your ashes to be washed away by the heavy winds at the beach you loved so much, and a third to be with Alexia to do as she pleases. Whether to keep or give to people you held so close.
The end is near, it's relieving in a sense. That all this anxiety toward the date will just go. Everything for you will stop. But, you hate being the reason people are upset. All you'll leave is pain and anguish until one by one your friends heal. Alexia heals.
- - - - -
Today was the day, you're not sure how you know but you do. You wait with Alexia, remembering all good times. No words are said, she's trying to remember every detail in your face. Fearing the she'll forget you.
"Alexia." She takes a deep breath, nodding at you to continue.
"I love you, I love you in everyway possible. I love you in every universe. I love you to the moon and saturn. Never forget me, as I'll never forget you." You whisper, breath shaky as you feel yourself drifting away.
"I could never, forget you amor. You're safer wherever you are next. I love you. More than words could ever convey." Her voice breaks.
You don't want to leave her, why did it have to be like this?
She places her lips against yours one last time. Your eyes close, one last time.
—————————————————————————
well... no part 2. reader will not come back from the dead like melanie martinez
but last night i dreamt i kissed taylor swift so theres that
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joelmillers-whore · 6 months
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The Only Thing I Did Right
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summary: after a patrol gone wrong, joel races to get you back to jackson. while the doctor tries to save you, he wrestles with the guilt of letting you down.
pairing: joel miller x reader 
word count: 2.6K
series or one-shot
warnings: mature, language, joel x female!reader, no mention of Y/N, canon timeline (sort of), jackson era, post-outbreak, soft joel, hurt/comfort, minor descriptions of blood, joel thinking everything is his fault, tommy is there briefly, mentions of drinking and/or alcohol dependence, happy ending don’t worry, angst if you squint
A/N: i meant for this to be a short drabble because my creativity has been waning lately and i’m a little burned out to be honest, but i got carried away, but what else is new. anywho, enjoy this lil fic. let me know if ya’ll would like to see another part of this or maybe an interconnected one-shot series, i would be down. i really enjoyed writing this. also, i am still trying to power through this sickness i have suddenly, and i don’t think i’ll be able to post hard light chapter two this week.
I've Got Nothing Left To Hide
“Where’s it hurt?”, Joel asked, in a low, almost inaudible voice. He tried to keep his tone calm, trying to keep you calm, but his mind was flustered, and he was on edge, and he was pretty sure that you could see right through his charade. 
He swallowed thickly, past a lump that was stuck in his throat. His eyes darted all over you, tracking every movement, every laboured breath, and wince.
It had been decades since he had felt like this; the constricting of his chest, the shallow and unsure breaths that he was letting out, and the staggering way his heart clenched, a silent prayer on his lips, asking any God who would listen to spare you. 
It all felt so overwhelming and a little too familiar. Images of Sarah flashed through his mind, dredging up demons and emotions he had thought he had left in the past.
He had never been so afraid of losing someone he loved, not since Sarah, but here he was now, feeling like he was about to collapse at any minute, terrified of making the wrong move and losing you.
He swallowed again, harsher as he concentrated on his breathing. 
He hadn’t let his mind drift to thoughts of his daughter in a long time, his chest burning in that familiar way each time that he did, squeezing to the point of pain.
He let an idle hand drift to his chest, right above his heart, and gripped it, trying to will it subconsciously to slow down. But it was no use. 
There were very few things in the world that made Joel feel as if the ground was collapsing underneath him, and thinking of Sarah was definitely one of them.
Whenever he found himself thinking of her, thinking of how he couldn’t save her, the breath from his lungs evaporated, and guilt slammed into him with enough force to destabilize him.
But seeing you like this, the woman that he had promised Tommy that he would watch over and protect, writhe in pain as blood pooled under your shirt, that was another thing that he couldn’t bear to witness. 
You looked so helpless, lying in his arms, looking up at him with droopy lids, a faraway look in your eyes.
He cursed under his breath, knowing that you were injured because of him, because of his carelessness.
You were going to be another person he couldn’t protect and he didn’t know how much more of that he could take. 
“‘M fine”, you said, weakly, your breath coming out in stunted gasps. 
Joel shook his head, tempered anger coursing through his veins, “Don’t pull that brave shit with me”, he bit out, harsher than he intended. He gripped you tighter in his arms, holding onto you for dear life. “I know it hurts, so just tell me”. 
He watched as tears gathered at the corners of your eyes, you tried to blink them but the motion only made them fall, coating your cheeks.
Joel lifted a hand, wiping them away. He hated to see you cry, he couldn’t stand it, it broke his heart.
He left his thumb on the apple of your cheek, thinking that maybe the sensation would bring you some comfort, thinking that maybe it would bring him some comfort. 
“Am I going to die, Joel?”, you asked, a slight tremble in your voice. 
Joel shook his head, adamantly, “Not if I can help it”. 
You faded in and out of consciousness as Joel debated his next move, trying to figure out how he was going to get you back to Jackson.
He clutched the hem of your shirt, the material sticking to your stomach as he peeled it from you.
He visibly cringed as he eyed your wound, the punctured flesh dispelling crimson red at a rapid and borderline concerning rate. 
He couldn’t wait around any longer, couldn’t wait for the next round of patrol to find them, if they even came out this far. So, he took matters into his own hands, his muted internal clock ticking down the more he looked at you pale in his arms.
He scooped up your limb body, pressing you flush to his body, determination and adrenaline pumping through him, the driving force propelling him into action.
There was only one thought in his head; get you back to Jackson, by whatever means. 
As he stepped out of the small cabin, Joel noticed that the sun was slowly starting to dip beneath the horizon, the pop of blistering orange making him anxious.
Night would come quicker than either of you wanted and then the real challenge would begin, trying to navigate through the dense forest and get back to the community in the dark.
You were trembling in his arms, shaking so violently, from either the bitter cold or the loss of blood, that he thought that he was the one who was hurting you. 
“Can you ride?”, he asked, urgency in his voice. 
“Dunno”. 
Joel couldn't risk injuring you further, but he also couldn’t waste any more time, so he made an executive decision. He had been making a lot of those on your behalf today, and his most recent had gotten you in this position in the first place, it was his fault.
If anything happened to you, he wouldn’t ever forgive himself. 
He placed you tentatively on the ground, his arm sneaking around your waist to stabilize you as he untied his horse from the post. 
“Alright”, he bent slightly, grabbing your foot and placing it in his hand, “Nice ‘n easy now”. 
He could see the strain on your face, the pellets of sweat sticking to your hairline as you used as much strength as you could, hoisting yourself up and onto the horse. You’d let out a strangled groan as you got situated.
Once he knew that you were on, he hopped up, grabbing the reins and digging his heels into Shimmer’s body, spurring her into a run, his motivation to get back to Jackson making his heart race. 
The only solace that Joel took from not being able to see you from the position he was in, was that he could feel you gripping him from behind, your arms latching around his waist, your cheek flush with his back.
He could feel your chest rising and falling against him and his pulse softened, knowing that you were still fighting, still holding on for him. 
He had pushed Shimmer to her limits, getting you both back to Jackson in record time. The sequence of events that followed had been a blur to him.
The gates had opened immediately, the guards recognizing him even in the dusk.
He remembered screaming his throat raw, begging someone for help as he carried you into town and to the doctor.
He’d watched on, helplessly, as they quickly began working on you. Blood and cloth blurred his vision, making his stomach twist with queasiness.
He had to leave the room, too overcome with emotion and nausea to be of any help to you. 
When he stepped outside of the small makeshift clinic, the frigid air pierced his lungs, drawing out a long and aching breath, striking him so sharply that he stumbled forward.
He had gripped a wooden post for support, digging his palms into it for purchase, closing his eyes.
He tried to get a handle on his breathing, but it was no use. He felt the bile creeping higher in his throat, until he couldn’t hold back anymore.
It poured out of him, leaving his mouth dry and his head spinning. It was a visceral reaction, his worry over you, over what he had let happen. 
He cursed Tommy for entrusting him with you, something so precious. He knew things could have turned out worse, and he was glad that they hadn’t been, but he couldn’t get over how bad they were right now.
How shaken to his core he was that he had allowed this to happen at all.
Joel couldn’t stand to be there anymore, just on the other side of the door that led to you, powerless while the doctor patched you up. So, he did the one thing he had always been good at, he left. 
Snow crunched underneath his boots, growing louder in his ears as he walked away from the clinic. He thought that a drink might help calm his nerves.
A part of his brain wanted to forget that this day had ever happened, and another part told him that no amount of alcohol would repair the guilt that was nestled snuggly in his gut. But he could try. 
Joel didn’t know how long he had been at the Tipsy Bison, he had lost track of time after the third or fourth whiskey. He blew out a shaky breath, letting a hand drift over his haggard features.
He had been running on adrenaline the whole day and now he was crashing, feeling the exhaustion settle deep in his bones.
But he couldn’t rest, he didn’t deserve to, not when he didn’t know if you had made it or not. 
A jolt of horror shot through his body, making his stomach twist in knots. What if you hadn’t made it? He licked his dry lips, closing his eyes as he felt a prick form behind his eyes. 
Joel was startled by a firm hand on his shoulder. He twisted slightly to see who it was, his face dropping further when he saw that it was Tommy.
He didn’t have to look at his brother for long to get a read on his expression. What he was thinking.
He was pissed and rightfully so. He had failed you and now he was waiting for Tommy to lay into him, chastise him for being so fucking stupid. 
“She’s askin’ for ya”, Tommy said, keeping his voice soft. 
Joel turned around in his seat fully to look at Tommy, surprised that he had gotten to his feet so fast. He snorted out a laugh, seeing the fucking relief that was surely on Joel’s face.
Tommy clapped his shoulder again, almost to stabilize him. Joel couldn’t look his brother in the eye, guilt bubbling and breaking the surface, making his skin sting. 
“‘M sorry”, he mumbled, “I should’ve been there, I should’ve gotten to her quicker, I shoulda done something”. 
Tommy shook his head, “You couldn’t’ve known that would happen, Joel. So stop blaming yourself”. 
Joel scratched at his facial hair, running his hand along his jaw, pondering Tommy’s words. 
He continued, “You protected her with your life, brother. I couldn’t ask for more than that”. 
Joel felt emotion clog his throat. Tommy wasn’t angry with him like he suspected he would be, he was grateful even. Something unfamiliar unfurled in his stomach, something that felt like acceptance. 
A long beat stretched between them, “Go see her”, Tommy finally said, a smile pulling at his lips. 
He led Joel out of the bar, leading him back to the clinic to go see you. Tommy stopped short of the door, motioning for him to continue without him. Joel nodded curtly, slipping past and entering the small, single-room cabin. 
Tentatively, Joel inched closer to the bed that you were in, walking on the balls of his feet, uncertain if you were awake or not. You were lying down, stretched out with your back to him, He sat on the edge of the bed, seeing you turn toward him, a grin on your face as you looked at him. Joel’s face heated under your gaze.
He didn’t deserve that smile, he thought, but he would take it anyway, if you were willing to give it to a man like him. He reached out, stroking your face softly with the back of his fingers. 
“Hey, darlin’, how ya feelin’?”, his voice was throaty, raw. 
His heart hammered below the surface as your eyes locked with his, pining him to where he sat. He didn’t want to breathe too loudly or make any sudden movements, too afraid that he would break the spell. 
“Better now”, you croaked. 
Everything collapsed at once inside of him; his resolve, his strength, his pride. He couldn’t fight it any longer, how fucking happy he was that you were still here, still with him. 
“What’re you smiling at, hm?”, you asked, arching a brow. 
Joel shook his head, his explanation dying on his tongue. He had never been one to lose his words but right now, being so close to you, he wasn’t sure he knew how to speak anymore.
Your hand wrapped around his wrist, pulling him back to the moment. Your hand was freezing as it touched his skin but he didn’t mind. 
His smile disappeared as your eyes scanned his face, “I’m so fuckin’ sorry—”, he started, but you shook your head. 
“It was my fault, Joel. Don’t you dare apologize for my fucking mistake. I won’t hear it”, you said, your tone firm. 
Joel wanted to argue, to tell you that it was his fault but he didn’t have the heart, not when you were only just beginning to heal up, still looking weak and pale.
He could wait for another day to have it out with you. He just nodded instead, and you hummed, content with him seemingly letting it go for now. 
Your hand was still on his wrist and he felt a strange sense of calm. 
“Come ‘er”, you whispered, tugging on his wrist lightly. 
He wasn’t sure what was happening until your lips were on his, soft, pliant, and full. The kiss was sweet but it only lasted a minute. He pulled back, his brows furrowed in confusion. 
“Thank you”, you said, eyes shining as the light hit them, making them more beautiful than he thought was possible. 
He nodded quickly, head still spinning from kissing you. It had been a thank-you kiss and he shouldn’t think more of it.
But goddamn it, he wanted more. He wasn’t mad or upset that you had kissed him, honestly, he had been meaning to do it for months now.
If a kiss filled with gratitude for saving your life was all that he could get, he would accept that, he didn’t want to push his luck. 
You noticed the uneasy look on his face, shifting in the bed and using your dwindling strength to sit up.
Now you were the one with creased brows, your eyes darting over his face, trying to find your answer. Realization struck your features. 
“If I made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry, Joel. I just didn’t know how else to say it”. 
Joel felt like a jackass, that wasn’t what he meant at all. 
“That’s not— that’s not it, darlin’. I just didn’t think you’d want to kiss an old man like me”. 
His chuckle was thick with depreciation, but you just shook your head, eyes gleaming with something he didn’t recognize. You chewed your lower lip and Joel couldn’t help but stare. 
“I’ve been meaning to do that for a while actually”, you admitted. 
Joel’s head snapped up, searching your eyes. You were sincere and he knew it. That was the confirmation that he needed, the hope that lit a flame in his chest. You wanted him too. 
A deep chortle escaped Joel’s throat, his face neutral as he leaned in closer to yours. “Then I guess we better make up for lost time then”. 
Joel pressed his lips into yours, moulding to the shape of them as he gripped your face in his large hands, letting a groan slip into your mouth. You pulled back with a giggle, fisting the hair at the base of his head.
Your smile was a thousand watts and Joel couldn’t look away. His grip on your face tightened a little more, making sure that this was really happening to him. 
He couldn’t believe it but he dove back in regardless, wanting to soak in as much of your love and light that you were willing to give to him.
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